


Die Sonne ist nur eine Flamme

by over_hyped



Category: Rammstein
Genre: AU - Sonne, Developing Friendships, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Magic, T warning is just for language & mentions of violence, fairytale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-08-13 14:15:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20175631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/over_hyped/pseuds/over_hyped
Summary: The guys get an unexpected guest, but they've been through this before, and the consequences were devastating.Can they trust an outsider, especially one with such strange and frightening powers?





	1. Eins

**Author's Note:**

> Although this is an original work, it is entirely inspired by the video for Sonne, directed by Jorn Heitmann.
> 
> This is a work of fiction and is not intended to infringe or offend.
> 
> A note on the text: Margrit is about 23-25 years old. In this story, the Rammboys aren't dwarves, but you'll see...
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoy! Please feel free to comment or leave kudos. I've already written a bunch of future chapters, so let me know if you'd like me to continue :)

The house is probably occupied, but I see no other option. 

I’ve been on foot for days, and my provisions are running low. More noticeably, I can barely keep my eyes open, though I’ve stopped once or twice to take shelter beneath my cloak. 

It’s snowing now and my fingers are frozen to the touch. It won’t take long for the chill to take me, and my hands are too weary to weave their magic. 

I knock first, but there’s no answer. My fist echoes dully against the wood. 

The place is empty. 

I turn around, considering the alternative. 

No. 

It’s this. _ Or death. _

\--- 

“Das kann nicht sein...” 

The voices are low, almost muted. Barely loud enough to rouse me. 

My eyes flicker, adjusting to the lamplight. I try to recall how I got here, but I’m drawing a blank. 

There are two of them at the foot of the bed, and another four filing in through the open door. Their eyes are fixed on me, and I’m not surprised.   
  
I am an impostor. 

“I’m sorry...” I begin, sitting up in bed. “I didn’t mean to barge in here and-” 

“How did you get in?” One of the men closest to me asks, a stern look on such a sharp, almost noble face. 

“The door was locked.” Says the man next to him, a head or so shorter than his companion. 

I take a breath, suddenly aware that I’ve cornered myself here. 

“I know, I... broke the lock.” My eyes are downcast, mildly ashamed. 

“I knocked but there was no answer.” I say, trying to maintain some dignity. “I was close to freezing.” 

One of the men by the door scoffs. 

“That gives you the right to break into other people’s homes?” The shorter man asks, though I don’t think he expects an answer this time. 

I swing my legs over the side of the bed, but as I try to stand, my vision blurs. Before I know it, I can feel the pillow beneath my head once more. 

The voices gather, dark as a flock of ravens. I can only hope they don’t seize this opportunity to rob or to harm me. 

Or worse yet, to throw me back out into the cold. 

  
\--- 

It’s quiet now. 

The oil lamp flickers in my periphery. Everything is still but for the dancing of the flame. 

“She’s awake.” A voice close to my ear. 

I feel it then, something cold and damp against my forehead. It startles me at first. 

“Shh...” The voice soothes. “For your fever.” 

“But I was...so cold.” I mumble, resting my eyes for a moment. 

When I open them, I'm forced to meet his gaze. 

“You are lucky.” He says, ignoring my previous comment. “You could have died.” 

I try to shuffle higher, to sit up straight, but my head feels leaden. 

“I know that. I told you before.” I frown, almost deafened by the rush of blood in my ears. 

There’s a small chuckle, though I can’t be sure who’s laughing. 

“She’s like fire, this one.” Says the man with the noble face, flashing his friend a small quip of a smile. 

“I know...” Responds the shorter man, his focus returning to me. “Richard is going to hate you.” 

“Richard?” I ask, not fully understanding. 

“Our friend. You met him earlier, though...I’m not sure you’ll remember.” 

“You’re right.” I smile briefly, letting myself enjoy the cool touch. “I don’t remember.” 

Then the cloth is gone and I’m raising my head without relief. I can hear water being rung from the fabric. 

“I’m Paul.” Says the man, gently dabbing at my forehead. “This is Schneider.” 

I offer his friend a grateful nod, and he raises his hand briefly. 

There are many things I want to ask, but my thoughts evade me. Paul watches my lips move soundlessly. 

“You don’t have to say anything.” 

He catches a drop of water on the tip of my nose. It would have tickled, had I not been so close to slumber. 

“Margrit.” I say, closing my eyes. “My name...is Margrit.” 

\--- 

The next few days pass in much the same way. 

Paul remains by my side, sometimes alone, sometimes with Schneider or another man of similar stature named Oliver (or Ollie for short). 

I don’t see the others, but their names are often mentioned. Paul speaks frankly about some, teasingly about others, but it’s clear he has a soft spot for each man. 

A day or two more and I’m able to sit up in bed. My fever has almost passed, but Paul still seems cautious. 

“Can I ask you something?” I say. 

It’s just the two of us this time. Schneider and Ollie are working. 

“You just did.” He replies, amusement playing on his lips. “But go ahead.” 

“What is your profession? Are you all...in the same trade?” 

Paul seems genuinely surprised by my question. The bridge of his nose wrinkles slightly, then he relaxes into one of his cherubic smiles. 

“We are miners. You don’t remember the day you came? We were covered in soot.” He chuckles, refreshing the washcloth. 

I try to think back, but their faces are a blur. Two figures by the bed, four at the door. 

“What do you mine for?” I ask, feeling rather foolish as soon as the words pass my lips.  
  
If Paul notices my embarrassment, he doesn’t let on. 

“Gold mostly, but anything we can get our hands on. Till once found a diamond the size of his fist.” 

My eyes widen, obviously impressed if a little dubious. 

“Did you sell it?” 

Paul hesitates, and for a moment, the light falls from his eyes. Then he looks up, cloth in hand, and says, “Somebody took it. That was the end.” 

But his answer only serves to fuel my imagination. 

“Somebody...took it? You mean, it was stolen?” I ask, letting him bathe my warm cheeks. 

A bead of water trickles down the side of my neck. 

“No, not exactly. It was her property, so she took it.” 

I’m still not satisfied with his answer, so I keep pressing. 

“But if Till found it then-” 

“It was not his property. None of this is our property. You understand?” 

The silence hangs between us like dust motes on the air. His gaze is unreadable. 

I wish I could weave my magic, force him to tell me the truth. But I mustn’t reveal my true nature. Not until it’s safe. 

Paul tries to pat my forehead with the cloth, but I raise my hand to block him. 

“Tell me this.” My eyes spit fire. “Why are you here, in this room, watching over me like a hawk?” 

He laughs dryly. 

“What do you mean? You came here, you needed our help. I am looking after you until you’re well enough to stand and then-” 

“Are you looking after me, Paul? Or are you keeping an eye on me?” My tone is pointed. 

“What’s the difference?” He asks, trying to diffuse me with a smile. 

“It’s always you. Sometimes one other person, but only occasionally. The others keep their distance. Why? What are you all afraid of?” 

I can see the answer just behind his eyes. It’s on his lips, the tip of his tongue. 

He won’t utter the words. 

“You need to rest.” He says, dropping the cloth into the wooden bowl with a splash. 

We’re both exasperated. There’s no way to reach him now, not today. 

Reluctantly, I rest my head against the pillow. I feel like a child, defeated in argument. 

Paul doesn’t leave. 

“Margrit?” He whispers, concerned that he might wake me. 

When I don’t respond, he continues anyway. 

“What were you running from?” 

I want to ask him how he knows I was running, but I decide to cut the bullshit. Perhaps that will encourage him to speak a few truths of him own. Apart from magic, the truth is one of the only weapons we wield. 

“The people I thought were my family.” I say, shrugging under the blankets. 

He doesn’t respond immediately, but I can sense another question bubbling under the surface. I will answer it. But just one more. 

“They weren’t your family after all?” There’s sorrow in his voice, but it’s not the blunt edged sword of pity I had anticipated. 

Without looking up at him, I shake my head “no”. 

Before he can press any further, I offer a firm “Good night, Paul.” 

I can hear him shuffling towards the door. 

“Good night.” He says and snuffs out the light. 


	2. Zwei

The bed is huge. I don’t know why I didn’t notice it before.

There’s nothing to complain about, the mattress is perfectly  comfy, and the sheets are clean. It’s just strange, that’s all.

I finally have enough energy to stand, rising from the bed with a creak. Through the silk curtains I can see that it’s night. The snow has melted, but the ground still sparkles with a thin layer of frost. A  reminder that winter is far from over.

My cloak hangs on the back of the door, I drape it over my shoulders and reach for the door handle.  To my relief, it’s unlocked . Perhaps they’re not so afraid of me after all.

This is the first time I’ve really  seen the cottage, though shrouded in darkness. All alone, I feel safe to use a little magic. I need to know if I’m strong enough to  conjure my powers.

With a  click of my fingers, a small flame appears. It’s bright enough to light my path, so I take the opportunity to explore the house. The kitchen and living area are one and the same, with a large oak table surrounded by six chairs.

No wait. Seven.

The extra chair sits at the head of the table and is significantly larger than the others.

I’m tall myself, taller than most young women my age, but as I take a seat, I finally understand that whoever sits or has sat here, is no ordinary human. My magic would surely shrink when faced with such a colossal being, and though I can’t be sure they're malevolent, I don’t think they will be happy to see me here.

Deep in thought and eyes drawn to the flame still flickering at my fingertips, I don’t hear the door.

He stands there unnoticed. Just another shadow.

Then his face comes into view.

“Richard?” I squint, piecing together anecdotes along with the description Paul gave me.

His eyes grow wide, chest heaving with every breath. It’s then I realise what I’ve done.

“L-Let me explain...” I say, the flame beginning to waver.

But he doesn’t give me  a chance.

“Hexe...” He whispers, taking a step back.

“Richard...”

“SHE’S A FUCKING WITCH!”

The flame dies, leaving a faint plume of smoke.

“Richard, please!” I cry,  but I can  already  hear his footsteps retreating.

The house comes alive, with lamps alighting e ach doorway. The y’re dressed in their bed clothes: loose fitted shirts and a pair of slacks. 

Flake steps forward, holding the lamp in front of him.

“Is what he says true?”

My eyes go first to Richard, then to Paul. He holds my gaze for a moment, then looks away. Richard doesn’t take his eyes off me.

“I...” There’s no easy way to say it. If I confirm their fears, I’ll be exiled. If I try to explain who or what I am, they won’t believe me.

“Just tell us the truth.” Says Schneider, catching my eye  with some  hesita tion . “It’s better that we know now.”

My eyes pass over each individual face. There’s so much hurt there , so little trust .

“Some...call me a witch.” I say, starting slowly. “I never learned any of this through study or...or occult worship. I have no patron, no god. I was simply born this way.”

Flake swallows. I have yet to dispel his fear.

“I can assure  you; my powers are benign.”

Richard sneers, letting out a short stream of laughter.

“Benign?” He mocks. “Your hand was on fire!”

Till cuts in then, laying the flat of his palm against Richard’s chest.

“Let her speak...” He says, though it’s clear Richard isn’t quite finished.

“Till, she could have set this whole place aflame. She-”

“But she didn’t.” Ollie says, stepping out from the darkness.

Richard looks utterly bewildered. He can’t believe these words are coming from his closest friends. His brothers.

“My magic can actually be quite helpful, I-I can light a fireplace without flint. I can sense predatory animals from a mile away, I can-”

“Can you...alter things?” Schneider asks, a hopeful glint in his eye.

Paul turns to him, a lmost a s intrigued as I am.

“What do you mean?” I pull my cloak tighte r around my shoulders .

“Like coal. Could you turn it into uh...diamond? Gold maybe?”

A look of understanding passes between t hem . All except for Richard.

“No.” He says, shaking his head. “We are not letting this  _ witch _ stay in our home! Are you guys out of your minds?”

“Could you do it, though?” Till looks me in the eye, ignoring Richard’s out burst .

There’s no use in lying. If they find out  later , I’ll be no better off than if they throw me out this very minute.

“I don’t know...” I do my best to explain, “I’ve never tried. But I suppose it’s possible.”

Schneider whispers something to Paul,  cupping his ear . A few moments later and I can feel  a shift.

Paul is the one to speak.

“We propose that Margrit stays. ” He’s interrupted momentarily by a muffled curse from Richard. “ _ On the condition _ that she only uses her powers to help us maintain our livelihood.”

“Are we all in agreement?” Asks Schneider.

Richard sighs, running both hands through his thick, black hair. It’s shape barely moves.

“I am.” Ollie says.

Flake looks to  Till for guidance before both men nod their approval.

“Richard?” Paul prompts.

There’s no answer, t he best he can offer is a bitter smile.

“You’re going to get us killed.” He says, pointing right at me. Then he turns his attention to the others. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Richard marches back to his room, slamming the door behind him.

It takes a few minutes for  the  dust to settle. The men eye each other, unsure now more than ever how they should interact with me.

Paul clears his throat. 

“Don’t worry...” He smiles, “ I'm sure he’ll come around. ”

\---

I sup with them the next morning.

The room is silent, but for the sound of mouths working against bland porridge oats and spoons scraping empty bowls. I eat without complaint, grateful for any shred of kindness.

After the meal, I offer my thanks to Schneider, who I assume did the cooking, but my words are met with a sneer from the end of the table.

“I made breakfast.” Says Richard, still busy spooning porridge into his mouth.

“Oh...” I glance at the others in apology. “Sorry, I... He served the  meal, so I just assumed that-”

“I would be cooking regardless of you being here. That doesn’t mean I have to serve you.”

Till sighs and gather s a few empty bowls.

B rush ing Richard’s comments from my mind, I rise.

“Here, let me.” I reach for the cutlery and  Till smiles.

“That’s okay, I’ve got it.” He takes them over to a large  metal basin , already filled with hot water.

Richard is seething.

“No, let her do it. She might as well earn her keep.” He  points the spoon at me, droplets of milk staining the table.

“Richard.” Paul says firmly, his eyes flashing a warning.

Till  whistles a  sombre tune as he begins washing up . 

“She’s already earning her keep.”  Schneider contends. “Margrit will be joining us in the mine today.”

Richard chokes on his porridge, I do the same on thin air.

“I-I  will ?”

“How else will we test your powers?”

I think for a moment, claustrophobia already building up in my chest, swelling in my throat.

“Can’t you bring it up to me?” I ask, immediately regretting this.

“You’re kidding me.” Richard starts, “Not only do you somehow fool these guys into letting you stay here, but now you want us to bring you coal on a silver platter?”

He mutters something after that, but I can’t quite make it out.

At the thought of being packed into that tiny underground space, breathless and alone, something in me snaps.

“What did you say?” I ask him, not prepared to let this one slide.

Richard bites his lip.

“I said, I’m not going through this...again.”

The men fall silent. 

I can hear  Till slowly circling one of the dishes with a wet cloth. It takes a moment or two for my anger to simmer, to notice the sorrow in Richard’s eyes. Beneath all that rage, is pain. Pure and simple. There  must be some way to settle this.

“The first few pieces...” My eyes search for a willing gaze. “I can lower something down, a pail maybe. I feel more comfortable working my magic above ground. If it works,  _ if _ it works...I could gather the resources myself . ”

Schneider considers my response, bright eyes growing brighter b y the second . But it’s Richard who answers.

“Fine.” He shrugs,  feigning disinterest. “But your magic better work.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos on the first chapter, I hope you're enjoying the story so far! Feel free to like/comment and let me know what you think :)


	3. Drei

Seeing the men in their work gear is sobering. 

They really do this. Day in, day out. 

Each of them has a hefty utility belt, a pair of black leather work boots, a helmet with a light attached, and a pair of goggles. Schneider wears a hood instead of a cap, framing his dark features. 

“We keep the drills in here.” Till unlatches the door and opens it to reveal several rows of mining equipment, all shelved at a reachable height. 

He sees me eyeing the drills with great interest. 

“Go ahead.” He says, “Take one. I’ll be here if you look like you’re about to drop.” 

“How kind of you.” I laugh, suddenly feeling eyes around me. 

“Here.” Till helps me bring it down from the shelf. 

It’s much heavier than I anticipated, but to my surprise, I’m able to hold it without much assistance. 

The others retrieve their equipment one by one. Drills, chisels and pickaxes. 

I notice another set of equipment near the back; a large steel hammer and several smaller, miscellaneous tools. Tentatively, I ask what those are for. 

“I am also a blacksmith.” Schneider explains, and there’s pride in his voice. 

I seriously underestimated these guys. 

Once we’re outside, Till takes the drill from my shoulder, handling it with ease. It’s as if I’ve been carrying a sack of feathers this whole time. 

I follow their solemn march about half a mile. Along the way, we pass a large hill, its peak covered with snow. There’s a great, leafless tree on top, its branches skewed as if in mourning. 

“What’s up there?” I ask, breaking the silence that threatens to consume us. 

Flake stares at the others, his mouth agape. 

“What?” I say, certain I’m missing something. 

“Nothing.” Schneider assures me. “There’s nothing up there. It’s just an old burial mound, but there are no gravestones anymore.” 

I keep my eyes fixed on the hill; the wind seems stronger up there, funnelling snowflakes in a dizzying haze. 

“Come on.” Richard says, clearly impatient. “We have work to do.” 

We reach the mine a few minutes later, and the men share a hearty sigh. A familiar sight to them, a new horror for me. They take me right up to the entrance, dark as the mouth of some ancient cave. It might fill others with a sense of wonder, the thrill of the unknown. To me, it is a tomb.   
  
Paul hands me the pail, dutifully tied with a long, sturdy rope. 

“Once you’ve sent up the coal, stay down there. At least for a little while.” I tell them. “I think it’s best if I work up here alone.” 

The men nod, all bar Richard who rolls his eyes and is the first to descend into the mine. 

Paul waits behind, watching the others climb down the ladder. 

“Do you really think you can do this?” He asks. 

I swallow, turning the question over in my mind. 

“I don’t know.” I say, favouring truth over naivety. “I hope so.” 

Paul nods. 

“I hope so too.” He smiles, raising his eyebrows. “Only one way to find out.” 

He pats my shoulder then, taking me by surprise. 

These men are unpredictable, almost flighty in their displays of affection. The power inside me, whether it’s magic or something else entirely, hums. 

On my own again, the air feels different, cooler. I sit cross legged and bundle into my layers. Having almost nodded off, the tugging of the rope startles me. 

A voice cries out from below, “On the ascend!” 

The pail rises, just as the drilling begins. It’s as if the earth is waking from a deep slumber, ready to shake us from the land like insects. I reach for the pail and drop it onto the ground before settling myself on crossed legs again. The coal is fixed between my thighs. 

_ Now what? _ I think. 

They’re all depending on me to make this work.What if I’ve merely been lucky up until this moment? 

I take a single piece of coal, passing it back and forth between my hands. It stains my fingers instantly. 

Closing my eyes, I focus on the weight of it, the strange cold texture like the beating heart of a mountain. My thoughts drift back to Till and the diamond. I can see it now, cool and stark against his ruddy skin. Not as dazzling as he’d expected, but still striking. He wants to keep it, to treasure it in his breast. He doesn’t want to sell it or share it with the world. But there it is, being ripped from his chest, pried from his fingers. He is empty. 

No. I must concentrate. 

I try to tune out the noise from below, but the drilling is relentless. 

The only thing I can use, a tried a tested formula in times of desperation, is anger. My eyelids flutter, I picture Richard’s face brooding over the empty bowl. 

“Witch!” He says, and my palms start to burn. 

Soon the heat grows until it is almost unbearable. My hands quake, the skin feels like it might blister. I open my eyes, and the stone glows a deep blood red. The sight terrifies me, and I drop the stone at once, skidding back on my heels. 

A face appears then, the light on his helmet flickering. He raps his knuckles against the lamp until it keeps a steady beam. 

“Everything alright?” Asks Ollie, his voice barely carrying over the ruckus. 

I don’t speak. My eyes are wide, chest heaving. 

Against the cold winter air, my breath is white as the snow that fell the night I arrived. 

“Margrit?” He sounds concerned. 

Ollie disappears for a moment, and the drilling comes to a halt. All six men begin filing out of the mine, the last of whom looks no happier than when he first descended. 

“What’s wrong with her?” Richard asks impatiently. 

“Shh...” Paul scolds him with a look, then crouches by my side. “What is it? Did you see something out here?” 

The others scope the place. Flake looks genuinely fearful, his eyes going back to that snowy hill. 

I shake my head, finally making eye contact. 

“It worked.” I whisper. 

Their eyes grow wide in disbelief. Richard raises a single eyebrow. 

“Let us see then.” He ventures closer. 

I point to the stone, my arm shaking. Paul tries to pick it up, but something’s wrong. 

“Shit!” He lets out a small yelp, blowing on his fingers. “Why is it so hot?” 

Schneider steps forward, his face and shoulders are filthy. 

“Let me try, I’m wearing gloves.” He picks it up, cradling the stone in both hands. 

The men gather round, standing in silence. 

“What is it?” I ask, too scared to see for myself. 

The colour was so strange, so dark and visceral. As if it were a living thing. 

Till looks back over his shoulder and says, “I don’t know. I’ve never seen anything like it.” 

“But it’s...” Paul struggles. 

“It’s beautiful.” Richard says, unable to steal his eyes away. “What the hell were you thinking about when you made this?” 

“Nothing...” I swallow. “I... I wasn’t thinking at all.” 

\--- 

The stones are forged, one after another. 

Though a few resemble the first one, blood red and scorching to the touch, no two are the same. 

There are clear stones, bright as diamonds. Gems with flakes of blue and gold. 

My powers sing, filling me with a rush I’ve never experienced. It’s all consuming, and that terrifies me. But the look on their faces, the smiles of gratitude...I can’t let them down. Not now. 

Gathered around the dinner table, Till fills our cups with ale. 

“Tomorrow we will take our hoard to the merchant, see what he wants to sell on our behalf.” Schneider announces gleefully. “I’m sure that...whatever profit we collect will make last month’s earnings seem like crumbs in comparison.” 

The men raise their cups and Paul gestures for me to do the same. 

“To Margrit.” He says with a smile, rendering me defenseless. 

“To Margrit!” They drink with vigour, all but Richard who sips his ale, eyeing me over the rim of his cup. 

I down my drink, causing a few raised eyebrows and looks of bemusement. 

“You are the ones who gather the coal. You work and graft, and what do I do? I just summon a bit of heat.” 

They listen with increasing confusion. 

“What are you talking about?” Schneider scoffs, his cheeks already beginning to glisten. “You think we don’t notice how exhausted you look when it’s all over?” 

“You work harder than any of us.” Flake agrees, staring into his cup. 

My chest swells with each word, and my own cheeks start to redden. Paul drapes his arm around my shoulders, giving me a small squeeze. 

“I knew you came here for a reason...” He says, ale sloshing as he points in my direction. 

“Ahh, don’t start all this.” Till warns, though there’s humour in his eyes. 

“What? I’m just saying!” Paul beams, “Bad always makes way for good.” 

The room grows silent. Paul’s smile fades. 

“Bad makes way for good...” His voice trails off, and I feel his arm peel away. 

Till sighs, finishing his drink in one stiff gulp. 

“Come on...” He gives the men a meaningful glance. “Time for bed. It has been a long week for all of us.” 

There are a few nods, Paul begins an anecdote that tapers off as he exits the kitchen. Schneider and Ollie are in tow. 

Flake and Till bid me good night before returning to their room. 

Only Richard remains. 

“You’re studying that cup rather closely.” I tease. 

“That first stone...” He says, ignoring me. “Something about it frightened you.” 

It’s my turn to look away, feeling the heat return to my face and neck. 

There’s no way for me to make him understand. 

“That happens sometimes. I wasn’t expecting it to work, even after all the faith you put in me.” 

I spy a small, razor thin smile. Clearly my sarcasm is not lost on him. 

Richard leans back in his chair. 

“It’s different to the others, you know? Darker somehow.” His eyes narrow as if he’s contemplating something. “Not just the colour.” 

“I think they came out differently depending on what I was feeling in that moment.” 

“And what were you feeling with the first one?” He asks, turning his body to face me. 

My hesitation tells him everything he needs to know. 

“I think you were angry.” Richard says with a slight air of smugness. “Were you?” 

Defeated, I nod. 

“I thought so...” His smile broadens, but I’m not sure he’s entirely happy with the result. 

A few moments pass, the two of us sitting in silence. The faint sound of snoring filters out from one of the rooms. It’s strangely comforting. 

“You’re angry too.” I say, unsure where this thought came from. “With me, for breaking your peace. With her, for...whatever she did to you.” 

Richard doesn’t explode like I thought he would. He’s calm and collected. Amused even. 

“You think you know a lot about this place, hm? About us.” His voice doesn’t waver. 

“I only know what Paul-” 

“You don’t know us. Any of us. Do you understand?” 

My breath hitches in my throat. 

“No.” I say, trying to keep my voice down. “I don’t understand. Why don’t you explain it to me?” 

His chest continues to rise and fall in steady progression. 

“Listen, I know you did us a favour, and if Schneider is right, we’ll be much better off than we have been in some time. I’m grateful for that.” He taps his finger on the table, spelling it out for me. “But you can never belong here. With us.” 

I feel it then. The anger rising like smoke, curling in the back of my throat. 

“Who said I even wanted to be here?” I ask, though I have very little interest in what he has to say. “I’m helping you guys because you let me stay. Because Paul looked after me when I was sick. As soon as you’ve got your money, I’ll make arrangements.” 

My tone is confident, but in reality, I have no plan. I can’t go home, not if I want to survive another month, and I can’t move forward without a guide. 

On impulse, I take the cup from him and drain its contents. Then I’m standing, the ale going straight to my head. 

“Good night, Richard.” I say, heading back to my room. 

He lets me walk most of the way there before he utters my name. 

It’s the first time I’ve heard him say it. 

“I want you to know, I don’t hate you.” 

I let out a short, sharp laugh. My back is still turned to face him. 

“I don’t.” He assures me. “I just can’t watch them get hurt again. I won’t do it.” 

Slowly, I raise my head. My fingers reach out to trace the pattern on my bedroom door. The room I have come to think of as my own, despite the odd fit. 

We are both in pain. I know that as surely as I know my own mind. But I cannot prove myself to somebody who doesn’t want to trust me. 

“You’re a good man.” I whisper, hoping he can hear me. “And a good friend.” 

The snoring continues, though louder this time. After several minutes, I slip inside my room. The darkness is there to greet me, and the bed feels even larger this time. 

Within moments, I’m asleep. 

I dream of dark, blood stones. Of being trapped in the mine, with no company but the deafening sound of my own heartbeat. 


	4. Vier

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?” Asks Paul, tightening his bootstraps. 

Schneider is busy packing the goods. The sack is so heavy it takes both his and Ollie's strength just to lift it. 

“I’m sure.” I say, continuing to fasten my cloak. “I told you, I’ve got something important to do. But it’s a surprise, so...” 

At this, Paul’s ears prick up. He’s beaming his signature smile. 

“A surprise? What, for us?” He asks, fiddling with his leather arm band. 

I tap the side of my nose. 

“Very well.” Schneider says, just about making it through the front door. “But be careful around here, okay? Stick to the woods nearest the cottage, and don’t go exploring the mines without us.” 

Paul follows him, offering me another saccharin smile. 

“Flake and Till will be here, try to stay where they can see you. Or you could ask Richard to be your look out.” 

We both laugh at this, but even so, Paul seems a little on edge. He steps back inside for a moment, offering me a brief but firm hug. 

“Take care of yourself. Okay?” 

“Okay.” I say, watching them set off towards town. 

Once I’m alone, I pull my hood up. The fur trim tickles my face. 

It won’t take long to reach the hill, and I’m sure I can forage some winter berries on the way, giving myself the perfect alibi. If there’s one thing that compliments magic, its cooking. 

The air is crisp today, I can smell smoke from nearby chimneys, and the fresh, earthy scent of the pines. As soon as I reach a stretch of land where the trees grow thin and leafless, I know I’m getting closer. 

Then, out of the cool mist, the snowy peak emerges. My heart seems to freeze at the very sight of it, but I am determined to go on. 

A few minutes later and I’m scaling the hill, using the larger rocks as a perch to raise myself up. I feel the snow on my skin, feathering my lashes and bristling my cheeks until they’re sensitive to the touch. My fingers are safely encased in wool this time, just in case I need to use my magic.

Catching my breath, I look around for signs of burial. The ground appears solid, untouched. There are no gravestones, as Schneider said, no plaques or memorials. Only the whistling of the wind. 

I turn my attention to the great, naked tree. And that’s when I see it. 

An enormous glass box, resting at the base of the tree, snow dusting the lid. As I edge closer, I see that it’s not just a box. But a coffin. 

Every inch of me, every fibre in my body is screaming at me to run, to get away from this cursed place. But I find myself moving closer still, leaning down to catch a glimpse of the face. It’s a face that holds so much beauty, yet cold and pale as death itself. 

“Margrit!” A voice struggles against the icy wind. 

I turn reluctantly, unprepared for what else may be lurking out here. 

Richard stares at me from the edge of the hill, arms hugging his upper body. 

“What are you doing up here? I thought Schneider told you not to come near the mines!” 

“Who is she?” I ask. 

He refuses to look at the casket. 

“She’s nobody, alright? She is dead. Now come on, I’ll take you home.” 

“No.” I say, clutching myself. “Not until you tell me something true. Not until you tell me what happened to her.” 

The wind cuts between us like a whip, the snow falling in heavy drifts. 

“I can’t talk about this here.” Richard holds out his hand to me, gripping his chest with the other. “Please.” 

I look down at his hand, then back at the tree. The woman lying there is much greater in size than me, and yet she is dead. Perhaps the men poisoned her when she refused to serve them, or maybe she tried to leave but they wouldn’t let her go. 

Then I remember the look in their eyes, the pain there. Richard looks wounded even now, his palm longing for the warmth of my own. 

With a sigh, I take his hand and let him lead me back down the hill. 

“Fuck...” He says, plunging both fists deep into his pockets. “It’s too cold up there to even think.” 

I grab his arm, stopping him in his tracks. 

“Take me somewhere we can talk.” I insist, fire dancing in my eyes. 

\--- 

The woods are so peaceful, it’s hard to imagine that less than an hour ago I was facing the cruel reminder of my own mortality. 

Richard carries a stick as he walks, carelessly jabbing at stones and logs along the way. Clearly his mind is elsewhere. 

“What do you want to know?” He asks, avoiding my gaze. 

“Everything. From the very beginning.” I say. 

I catch him struggling with his thoughts, tongue darting out between his lips. He inhales sharply. 

“She came to us...in much the same way you did.” 

His words take me by surprise. No wonder they all looked so perplexed the night I arrived. 

“It’s quite funny really...” Richard continues, “She was sleeping across two of our beds, and still she didn’t quite fit. We were shocked to see her there, obviously, but we gave her the opportunity to explain herself.” 

My eyes focus on his hands as he speaks. His voice is more concentrated out here, like nectar. 

“She said she was a Jotunn, a giant essentially. As you can imagine, we didn’t doubt her. We let her stay the night, Paul and I gave up our beds and everything.” 

“And then what?” 

“Well...” He pauses, taking in the scene around him. “She started to take advantage of us, slowly at first. She would demand that we cook for her, huge portions of food that would use up most of our rations for the week. If we refused, she beat us. Then her list of requests began to stretch on and on...” 

Richard closes his eyes momentarily; a vein appears at his temple. 

“Our trade never really seemed to interest her, until she caught sight of the gold. In the beginning she would simply make us sell it and use the profit to buy her things. Clothes. Jewellery. Then she wanted the gold itself.” 

My brows knit together, unsure if I’ve heard him correctly. 

“What would she want with the gold, if she had no trade of her own?” 

He hesitates, throwing the stick aside. It lands in the bushes with a rustle. 

“She got high.” He shrugs. “We would press it into a... fine powder for her.” 

“You’re kidding?” I can’t help but laugh. 

Richard's expression remains deadly serious. 

“One night she asked me to draw her a bath, so I did. Hours later, she was still in there. We thought maybe she’d fallen asleep. Flake went to check on her.” He falters, pursing his lips several times. “She was lying there...in the tub. We found a used needle not too far from the body.” 

I swallow hard. The air in my lungs is cold, close to freezing. 

“Did you try to save her?” I ask, peering up at him. 

He meets my gaze, shaking his head. 

“No.” Richard says softly. “We didn’t.” 

Neither of us speak for some time. I replay our conversation in my head, trying to make sense of the events that took place. My own anger towards Richard seems entirely misplaced now. 

“You’re right.” I tell him, standing still. 

He stops too. 

“I am?” 

“I should never have come here. After everything you’ve been through. I’ll always be a reminder of that pain.” 

Richard waits for me to say something else. 

“I think it’s best if I leave tonight, while the others are asleep.” 

His face twists, eyes darkening beneath the shade of the trees. 

“What are you talking about?” 

“Everything you said. How could I stay now, knowing what happened to you?” 

Exasperated, he runs both hands through his hair. 

“You really think you’d endanger us in the same way? Put us and yourself at risk like that?” Richard stares in disbelief. 

I don’t know what to think anymore. 

“Whatever choice I make, you guys will get hurt. If I stay, I’m bound to fail at some point, and who knows how long my magic will last? If I leave in a year or so, some of the guys might grow attached, and then I’m breaking their hearts for the second time. Surely it’s better that I leave now, while I’m still a stranger?” 

Richard lets out a small huff, his breath white as smoke. From the very beginning he wanted me out, so what’s the problem? 

“Fine!” He says, throwing his hands up. “Leave in the dead of the night, like a coward. See if I care. Hell, it’s one less mouth to feed.” 

I gape after him, watching him as he retraces our footsteps. A minute passes before I join his side, trekking back to the house in silence. 

\---

That night we celebrate despite our newfound truths. 

On my arrival, Schneider empties a sack of coins onto the dinner table. The gilded metal shines beneath the lamplight, turning their eyes to gold. 

It’s more money than any of them have seen for months, and there isn’t a single straight face in the room. Even Richard is smiling, though it seems to be a sign of relief more than anything. 

“Thank you, Margrit.” Paul pours me a cup of ale. His eyes tell me he’s already had several cups, and the money seems to have made him forget all mention of a “surprise”. 

“It was nothing really I-” 

“Nonsense!” Schneider nudges me with his elbow. “You have given us so much. You didn’t have to stay, others would have...I don’t know, used their powers to frighten us and then fled off into the night.” 

He flutters his fingers for added effect. 

I notice that Flake is watching me steadily over his cup, taking small, frequent sips. 

“Tell us...” He says, “What did you do back home that was so very bad?” 

Their eyes are on me, but it’s not a look of judgement or of haste. They want to hear my story, and I am finally ready to tell it. 

“Well, I was born this way and I didn’t want to change.” 

“Your parents did not have...powers?” Till asks, belching quietly under his breath. 

I shake my head. 

“No. There were rumours about a distant relative, an aunt. Apparently she could burn down whole villages with a single look.” 

There are a few raised eyebrows, but less fear in their eyes than when I first arrived. 

“Stories of her were shrouded in mystery, ripped from our family tree or written off as myth. When my father caught me using magic, he sought council from the village elders. They weren’t particularly religious, just...fearful. Fear makes people do stupid things.” 

Ollie nods. Paul and Schneider share a knowing look. 

“What did they do?” Flake asks, setting his cup down. 

I take a draught, wetting my lips. 

“They took me in the night, binding my hands and feet. Then they...” The words stagger, caught between my teeth. “They threw me into a dark room, a cellar I think, and locked me in there for days.” 

Till chokes, pounding a fist against his chest. No one speaks. 

“All I can remember besides my own screaming, was a voice. Somebody was chanting over and over again, trying to...I don’t know, exorcise this thing from me.” 

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Richard staring down at the table. He grips a cup in his left hand, knuckles fading to white. 

“There’s really nothing more to tell.” I say, forcing a smile. My eyes prickle with tears, but I’ll be damned if I’ll let them fall. “I told them I was better, that I couldn’t weave any more spells or conjure fire. They believed me long enough to let me out. The first chance I got; I ran.” 

In the silence, I feel Paul’s hand on my forearm. 

“Would they send anyone to find you?” He asks, a nerve twitching at his jaw. 

“I don’t see why.” I shrug. “They got what they wanted. The black sheep of the family is gone, the curse is lifted. They probably threw a fucking parade.” 

“You’re still their daughter.” Says Richard, looking up at me. 

I laugh dryly, tapping the side of my cup. 

“I am nobody’s daughter. I belong only to myself, and to the fire.” 

“And now...” Paul lifts his chin, “You also belong here.” 

His words catch me off guard. There’s no way to escape those eyes, that soft, humble expression. 

_ Please _ , I think. _ Don’t say things you’ll only _ _ regret. _

But I smile, despite the doubt that’s burrowed deep inside. I smile, and I turn my head to the side, wiping a stray tear against my raised shoulder. 

Paul’s touch turns to a gentle stroke. 

“Well...” I say, shrugging away the last of my tension. “Enough sadness. Let’s celebrate.” 

The men seem to agree. Till brings another pitcher of ale and begins refilling our cups while the others chatter amongst themselves. 

I’m about to raise the cup to my lips when Richard scoots his chair closer to mine. 

“Still planning on sneaking away in the night?” He whispers. 

I take a sip. My head feels light, my heart full. 

“Not tonight.” I say, and we make a silent toast. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for supporting this fic, your kudos and comments are much appreciated :)
> 
> I hope you're enjoying the developing relationship between Margrit and the boys. There's plenty of angst and action in upcoming chapters! (also bonus points if you can guess how many chapters there'll be..."


	5. Fünf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a little bit of drama at last. I hope you enjoy! :)

She comes to me nearly every night.

Her face is so pale, so tragically beautiful. But there’s something cruel in her expression, something heartless. 

She watches me from the bedside, black eyes staring into my sleeping face. Then her hands find my neck in the darkness, and she squeezes until there is nothing left. 

Just a mattress, and a pile of ash. 

I wake with a start, sitting bolt upright in bed. My chest feels tight and I can barely breathe. 

The door opens with a creak, causing me further panic. I push myself up against the headboard. 

“W-What do you want?” My voice splinters. 

“Relax...” He whispers. “It’s just me.” 

I snap my fingers, summoning a small blue flame. 

It’s Paul. He lingers in the doorway, eyes briefly mesmerised. 

With a sigh, I extinguish the flame. 

“Is everything alright?” Paul asks, one hand propped against the door frame. 

He’s wearing a vest rather than the usual smock I’ve grown so fond of. Even in the darkness I can see he looks tired. Perhaps, like me, he’s had trouble sleeping. 

“I’m fine.” I say, “I just...heard something, that’s all.” 

I’ve yet to catch my breath. 

“You sound like you’ve been chased. What’s going on?” He approaches the bed and I can just about make out the small arch of a frown. 

Paul sits, ready to listen regardless of the hour. 

“It’s nothing, honestly. I’ve just been having these strange dreams lately. But that’s all they are. Dreams.” 

He doesn’t seem convinced. 

“What have you been dreaming about?” 

I hesitate, unsure how much to give away at this point. Richard never told me to keep her a secret, but I didn’t want to remind the others of their past. Heaven knows I would rather look to the future. 

“The woman in the glass coffin.” I say, peering up at him. 

Paul looks away. 

“I didn’t know that you-” 

“I went up there, to the hill. The day you sold the stones.” I reach for his hand, pressing it firmly. “I’m sorry, I should never have gone there. But I did, I saw her. Richard came to find me, and he led me away.” 

His hand is warm, the pulse at his wrist beats against my fingertips. 

“He told you everything?” Paul asks, though he knows already. 

I nod, unsure if he can see me. 

“She can’t hurt you.” He whispers. “Not now.” 

“I know that. I just feel...like a usurper. It’s as though she’s watching me, some lesser being with the cheek to sleep in her bed and eat her food.” 

“Let her watch.” He laughs quietly, careful not to wake the others. 

I laugh too, but the fear is still there. My stomach churns, nausea rising. 

“Would you...” I rub my forehead, uncertain whether I can even utter the words. 

Paul waits, patient or half-asleep. 

“I know this sounds ridiculous, but would you sleep here...just for a little while?” 

He hesitates a moment, considering, then nods. 

“Um, sure. Okay.” 

I peel the covers back, shuffling to the side a bit. There’s plenty of room. 

Paul tucks himself in beside me, wrapping the duvet around our joint frame. With his arms around my waist, I feel safe, warm. 

Nothing can haunt me now. 

“Thank you.” I whisper, resting my hand on his. 

He presses his nose into my hair, and sighs. 

\--- 

It’s been a long day, with only a small heap of stones to show for my efforts. 

There are mostly dark greens and purples, little to nothing that could be worn with pride or sophistication. I think instead of mourning jewellery. 

Utterly exhausted, both mentally and physically, my thoughts jump from place to place like embers searching for a way to spark. 

“What’s going on with you today?” Asks Richard, taking a break from the world below. 

He sits beside me, his face and arms covered in soot. His brow glistens with sweat. 

“What do you mean?” I frown, tossing a piece of coal back into the pail. 

“You told me the stones reflect your mood...” He takes one of the darker gems, turning it over in his hand. “What the fuck were you thinking about when you made this?” 

I stand up, stretching my limbs in an attempt to dispel some of his negativity. 

“I’m just tired, okay? Haven’t you ever felt... I don’t know, not yourself?” 

He contemplates, dragging a small stick through the dirt. It leaves a thin, swirled pattern in the dust like a sketch drawn in sand. 

“I thought you were happy here.” He looks up at me, his eyes sparkling more than the jewels at our feet. 

“I am-” 

“This is happy?” Richard gestures to my day’s work. 

“Listen...” I stand above him, placing a single hand on my hip. “If I say I’m happy, I’m happy. It’s not my fault they came out this way. I’m sure they’ll still fetch a pretty penny.” 

He notes the dissension in my voice. 

“You think I’m worried about the money?” Richard asks, rising to his feet. 

A head pokes out from the entrance of the mine. 

“Everything okay?” Ollie appears, headlamp flickering. 

I ignore him, too tired and irritable to let Richard’s comments slide. 

“Oh, you’re _ not _ worried about the money?” My tone is starting to spiral. 

“Margrit-” 

“If you’re not worried about the money, then what is it? Don’t tell me you actually care about my well being.” 

“Margrit!” A voice behind me, surprisingly stern. 

Paul places a firm hand on my shoulder. 

“What’s all this about?” He eyes me, then Richard. “You two were finally starting to get along. Right?” 

I don’t speak, in case I say something I’ll regret. 

Richard is more forthcoming. 

“She said she’s tired, and that’s why the stones are coming out...the way they are.” He picks one up to show the others. 

Till and Flake are still working below. Schneider is alone in his workshop. 

“Well...” Paul says, nodding at the evidence. “She hasn’t been sleeping properly. Anybody’s work would start to suffer if-” 

“How do you know she's had trouble sleeping?” Richard stares. 

Paul doesn't answer, so I tell him myself. 

“I’ve been having some weird dreams, okay? Paul was there to listen.” 

“In the middle of the night?” Richard bites his bottom lip, head slowly shaking from side to side. “Sure...” 

He walks away, then turns and paces back towards us.

“Look...” I say, hands curling into fists. “We’re not having this conversation right now.” 

The two men glare at each other. Ollie watches from the sidelines, looking increasingly concerned. I want to reassure him that everything will be alright, but the blood in my veins is already turning to steam. 

“Paul?” I say, but his eyes are locked with Richard’s. “You said I belonged here. Those were _ your _ words. If I belong, then we should be living in harmony, as childish as that sounds, not fighting over something that...that isn’t even important.” 

His expression softens a little. There’s a look I can’t quite place, somewhere between hurt and acceptance. 

It’s Richard who speaks. 

“Listen, it’s not up to us to decide where you belong. If you’re unhappy, you’ll always stay up here.” He presses two fingers to my forehead. “And who knows...these dreams, maybe they’re a sign.” 

My fists ball even tighter. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask through gritted teeth. 

Ollie’s fingers tentatively brush against my bicep. 

“Hell, I don’t know.” Richard laughs, “Maybe something bad is going to happen.” 

Paul is staring up at me. My palms are already burning. 

“And it will be my fault? Is that what you’re saying?” 

“You’re putting words in my mouth!” He begins pacing again, no longer concerned about Paul. 

“This is just one bad day...” Ollie chimes in, his touch still feather light against my skin. “As long as Margrit gets some rest, the stones will-” 

“That’s all you care about, isn’t it?” The anger suddenly bubbles into something else. Hot tears glaze my vision. “All of you. That’s all you’ve ever cared about.” 

“No, Margrit. Please, that’s not what I-” 

But it’s too late. Something in me slowly breaks apart, rational thought slipping from my grasp. My hands unfurl, flames spitting from my fingertips. Ollie’s touch seems to repel, he rips his hand away, face contorting in pain. 

“Jesus...Fuck!” He falls to the ground, clasping his wounded hand. 

The men stare at me in fear, both taking a step back. Ollie’s eyes are screwed shut. 

_ W _ _ HAT HAVE I DONE _ _ ? _

My hands tremble. All I can do is look down at myself, the evidence of what’s inside me. I belong to the fire, after all, and not with these men I have come to cherish. 

“I-I’m so sorry...” I try to explain, but as I turn to Ollie, I see the flames I released only moments ago have started to kindle. 

The dead grass beneath our feet catches fire within seconds, forking the ground in a thin line that quickly shoots up towards the hill. We watch the fiery path until it reaches the peak, before ravishing that great, naked tree. The bark splits, its flesh tearing open with an almighty crack. 

The next sound we hear is unmistakable. 

It’s the sound of broken glass.


	6. Sechs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos and comments on previous chapters! I hope you're enjoying the fic so far.
> 
> This chapter has a bit of a POV change halfway through, which I know not everybody is a fan of (including me sometimes). But I think it works in this situation.

_ Zwinge den Geist... _ _ Zwinge den Geist.. _ _ . Zwinge den Geist und schütze den Körper. _

I hear the voice as clear as my own thoughts. It calls to me from the depths of dream, the never-ending dark. 

I’m in the cellar. Alone. 

My mouth is stuffed, my hands and feet bound. All I can see, taste, feel is darkness. 

And then, the hatch opens.

Six faces, bright as sunlight. 

They reach for me, but I have fallen too far, too quickly... 

\--- 

I wake with a jolt, watching as the smoke from the dying campfire melds into the black velvet sky. 

There are one or two stars, scattered like runes or notes on a map. I wish they would tell me where to go and what to do. I wish they would take me with them. 

I continue to follow the woods north, keeping track of signposts along the way. The further I walk, the closer the mountains appear, their silver peaks serving as a beacon, a small glimmer of hope. 

Perhaps I belong up there, alone in some old cabin. My thoughts drift back home, to the cottage and the friends I abandoned. Ollie’s face is stark in my memory, crying out in pain. I close my eyes, forcing the image to shatter. I must not return to that moment. 

The wind is still bitingly cold, but I am more prepared this time, with plenty of provisions as well as an extra cloak, though I have to stop myself from pressing my nose to the fabric, from inhaling his scent. It smells of soot and damp wood, of warmth and loneliness. It’s almost enough to send me running in the opposite direction, throwing myself on their doorstep and begging for forgiveness. But I don’t think they can ever forgive me. I wouldn’t.

When I finally reach the base of the mountain, I can see that one side is utterly charred, as if by dragon’s flame or some similar magic. I must choose, left or right. Desolation, or growth. For once in my life, I do not choose the fire. I choose life. 

The lighter side of the mountain is green with moss, dotted with poppies and an array of other flowers I don’t quite recognise. I wonder how they manage to bloom out here in the middle of winter. Venturing onward, I'm suddenly greeted with a welcoming sight, a small, thin shack with a dark plume of smoke rising from the yard. Tentatively, I knock. 

There’s no sound for several minutes, and I’m almost ready to give up and move on. I certainly won’t be breaking into another house anytime soon. Then there’s movement inside, the subtle shifting of weight on floorboards. The door opens with a creak. 

This...this cannot be. 

“Yes?” A woman in her fifties looks up at me with eyes the colour of wildfire. 

It takes her a moment, but the realisation comes. 

“M-Margrit?” 

My mouth hangs open. 

“Margrit.” She says my name again, a brilliant smile twitching against her lips. “Is it really you?” 

“I-I know you...don’t I?” I stammer, exhausted from my trip, blinded by disbelief. 

She pulls me into her arms with force, pinning me to her so that I can feel our hearts beating as one. 

“Aunt?” I say, my words muffled against her shoulder. 

“Yes, child.” She holds my face, taking in the sight before her. 

I must look a mess, my cheeks glowing red with the cold. 

“Come in, come in!” She steps aside. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this moment.” 

I cross the threshold, looking around. Her home is brighter than I expected, with most of its surfaces crowded with flowers and wooden sculptures. The back door is open, and I can see a fire has been lit. 

“How did you know I-” 

“It was prophesised many months ago. A visitor.” She closes the front door behind us. “Though I had no idea it would be my own flesh and blood.” 

I touch a set of chimes hanging near the fireplace, they jingle pleasantly against my fingertips. 

“But how did you know who I was? I mean, the resemblance is uncanny but-” 

“You’re telling me you did not feel it?” She takes a step forward, resting her palm against my cheek. “The fire in your veins did not ebb like the sea?” 

“Y-You have the fire...” I say, suddenly recalling the tales my family used as a warning. 

She nods slowly, noting the fear in my eyes. 

“They told you I was dangerous.” Her hand drops from my face. “This does not surprise me.” 

I watch as she approaches one of the vases, running her fingers over the petals of a large red poppy. 

“They said you burned whole villages for your own amusement.” 

A smile touches her face, though it’s dulled by sorrow. 

“Are _ you _ afraid of me, Margrit?” She asks, eyes fixed on the flower. 

Slowly, I shake my head “no”. 

“Good.” She says, turning to face me. “Come. There are things we must discuss. And later, I have something important to show you.” 

\--- 

We sit in the garden, warming ourselves by the fire. 

A pot of soup begins to boil. 

“What should I call you?” I ask, watching her bring a wooden spoon to her lips. 

She tastes the soup and adds a pinch of salt. 

“My name is Isobel.” She begins ladling the broth into two large bowls. “You can call me Bella, if you like. That is what your mother used to call me.” 

My heart leaps in my chest. 

“My mother?” 

“Yes. I was the younger of the two of us.” She explains, handing me the soup. “Barely a child when they sent me here.” 

I let out a small choking sound. 

“They exiled you when you were just a child?” I ask. 

The soup is rich with onions and thyme. My body hums peacefully. 

“When the accident happened, I was around six years old. My powers were just starting to reveal themselves and I... I struggled to control them.” 

Bella blows on her spoon. 

“Sometimes I feel as though there is no controlling them.” I say, guilt rising in my throat. 

She continues her story as we eat. 

“My parents noticed something was different about me, I think it troubled them. All I wanted was a place I could be alone, to play without the worries and complications of their world, a world I wanted no part of. I stumbled upon a barn in a nearby town, the cows were grazing in the field, so I let myself in and slept there for a few hours. When the farmer found me, he was so very angry...” 

Her eyes glisten. 

“He dragged me out into the field, calling the townsfolk. Scared and alone, the fire came to me without warning. More and more people started to gather, mesmerised by my powers. But soon their intrigue turned to fear.” 

“The fields went up in flame?” I ask, spoon touching my lips. 

“It all went up in flames.” Bella’s voice is dark, filled with pain and regret. “Every last inch. And my parents were held responsible.” 

“And my mother?” 

She swallows, her tears held captive. 

“They fed her lies. Told her I was evil and that she was the saving grace of the family. We wrote to each other several times, when she had you...” 

We finish the soup, placing the empty bowls at our feet. 

“But there was no way I could come back; they saw to that. I had to live as far away from other people as possible. That way the only person I could harm, would be me.” 

Higher on the mountain, the wind cries. I think of that other lonely hill, of broken glass in the snow. 

“I have harmed people.” I say, searching her face. “I let the fire control me, I submitted to chaos.” 

Bella asks to hear my story, and though it burns my lungs just to tell it, I know it will help. 

I start from the very beginning... 

Running away from home, waking up in their cottage, the way they looked after me. I tell her about their past, the way they were abused just for honouring a guest, and how she met her own twisted demise. Hardest was talking about that day at the mine, how I’d let myself be consumed, and taken Ollie into the darkness with me, if only for a split second. I speak of the aftermath, of Richard, Till and Schneider fighting the flames, beating them into the snow so that the ground itself seemed to breathe smoke. I tell her about Ollie, drifting in and out of consciousness as Paul and Flake dutifully carry him home on a makeshift gurney, his left hand white with blisters. 

I wipe the tears from my cheek, determined they will be the last. 

“I followed them back to the house. None of them would speak to me, they...they didn’t know what to say or do. I could hear Ollie in the night, he was whimpering. Paul tried to sooth him but...” My voice cracks. “I gathered my things as quickly as I could. I had to get out of there, I couldn’t bear to see that look in their eyes...” 

Bella strokes my forearm. 

“Shh, you meant them no harm, my child.” 

“But I did harm them.” I sob, finally giving myself permission to let go. 

She holds me as I cry, my body convulsing. 

“Would it help to see them now? To know how they’re doing?” She smooths my hair back. 

“But...How?” 

“This is what I wanted to show you, Margrit.” Her eyes dazzle wildly. “Our connection to the fire, it might seem like a curse, but it can also be a gift. Look into the flames, yes...just like that, and call out to your friends.” 

I do as she says, unsure what to expect. Then an image slowly starts to appear. 

The cottage. I see its exterior, that same grey stone, the door I first laid eyes on. It opens to reveal the kitchen and living area, the men are eating their supper. At the sight of all six of them, my stomach lurches and my heart feels set to explode. 

Their faces come into view. They look so...sad. 

Till eats gracelessly, his eyes fixed to the table. Richard only plays with his food. 

My view expands, and that’s when I see her. The Jotunn. 

She sits in her old chair, watching the men eat. Her gaze suddenly lands on Ollie, his left hand is bound and he’s using his right one to spoon food into his mouth. 

His hand shakes, making a mess on the table. 

In one swift motion, the giantess slams her fist against his wounded hand. Ollie cries out in pain, his posture crumbling. The others flinch, eyes watering at the sight. 

I can’t bear to watch this even a moment longer. 

“NO!” I shriek, tearing my eyes from the fire. “I can’t let this happen! I won’t!” 

Bella is rather shaken herself, staring into the dying flames.

“I have to go...” I say, “But how am I going to reach them in time? For all I know she’s decided Ollie isn’t worth keeping now that he can’t work...God what if-” 

“Do not waste time wondering, my child. Once you get there, you will know what to do.” She cups my cheek. “There is a small stable just around the corner, I keep several horses there. Choose whichever you like, but hurry!” 

I give her a tight hug, committing this moment to memory. 

“Thank you...” I say, racing back through the house. “From the bottom of my heart!” 

\--- 

** _ Richard POV _ **

Schneider holds Ollie’s right hand as Flake re-bandages his left. 

Paul and I watch, utterly restless. Till is busy brushing Snow’s hair in the next room. 

We never told anybody her name. Perhaps it made the whole thing seem less real somehow? And besides, Margrit didn’t stay long enough to ask. 

“What the fuck are we going to do?” Ollie grimaces, tightening his vice like grip on Schneider’s hand. 

I sit by the fireplace, rolling a toothpick between my front teeth. 

“There’s nothing we _ can _ do...” I say, staring into the flames. “Even death refuses to take her.” 

“Clearly she wasn’t dead.” Paul paces the room, one hand in his pocket. “It must have been some sort of coma.” 

Flake finishes the job, handing Ollie a small glass of rice wine. He downs the clear liquid in one go. 

“If we could find some way of contacting Margrit, maybe she-” 

“Paul.” My tone severs. “We are not going to her for help. We’ve already talked about this.” 

“Why not?” He stops in front of me, inches from the fire. “We didn’t kick her out, she left on her own. I know what happened was awful, Christ, we are all living with the consequences, but I saw some good in her.” 

_ Of course you did _ , I think. _ You’re smitten. _

Paul reads my thoughts, brows knitting together. 

“And it’s not what you think, okay?” He looks at me accusingly. “Things just...got out of control, that’s all. She didn’t mean to hurt anyone.” 

“You’re sure of that?” I ask, raising a single eyebrow. 

When he doesn’t respond, I direct my question elsewhere. 

“Ollie.” I take the toothpick and toss it into the flames. “What do you think?” 

He looks up, eyes misted over with pain. It takes him a moment to gather his thoughts. 

“I think she wanted to keep us at a distance, so that something like this would never happen.” He gestures to his hand. “But we got too close to something even she didn’t fully understand, and we all got burned...one way or another.” 

Schneider scratches his beard, listening closely. 

“And that wasn’t anybody’s fault.” Ollie continues, taking me by surprise. 

I turn my chair to face him. 

“You think we should ask for her help?” I say, all too aware that at any moment, Snow could order us into her bedroom for one of her punishments. 

Ollie stares at his hand, the fresh bandages standing out against his greying skin. 

“I think we were close to being happy here...when Margrit was around.” He looks up, meeting our gaze one by one. “And if anyone can help us now, it would be her.” 

“But we have no idea where she would have gone.” Schneider pipes up. “All we know is what she took.” 

He’s right. We do know what she took. 

I start uttering my thoughts out loud. “An extra cloak...about a week’s worth of rations, at a stretch.”

Schneider is beginning to catch on. “Are you saying...She knew that wherever she was headed, it was likely to be colder than here? She was planning to walk for several days...” 

“She went north.” Flake says calmly, as if it were obvious. 

The rest of us look at each other, unified in thought. 

“Then all we need to do is get a signal to her.” Paul smiles for the first time in days, his cheeks glowing in the firelight.

I consider his words, coming up with several ways we could attract attention, even from afar. 

Then it hits me. 

“I have an idea.” I say, “But we’ll need a distraction.” 


	7. Sieben

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are starting to heat up! (pardon the pun...)
> 
> Can Margrit and the boys get to each other in time, or will Snow ruin their plans for good?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say thank you to anyone still reading this fic. Hopefully it doesn't disappoint!

** _ Richard POV _ **

I’m not doing this because I miss her. I’m doing this to save our asses. 

I’m doing this because I’m tired of feeling small. 

The next day, Snow is on top form. She slaps Ollie across the face during breakfast, then Paul once the meal is through. I somehow manage to escape her wrath, even though I’ve barely touched my food for days. 

Till is on board with the plan, but there’s a subtle glimmer in his eye, a shift in colour. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was mourning her all over again. 

After her bath, I approach Snow on her own. My stomach is tight as a fist. 

Her eyes settle on me and she reaches out to caress my cheek. 

“What do you have there?” She asks, her dark eyes studying mine. 

She doesn’t miss a thing. 

My right hand is poised behind my back. Gingerly, I bring it to the front, revealing a stone the size of my palm. It’s blood red, a remnant of Margrit’s time here. 

Snow is captivated. She licks her lips. 

“That is...beautiful. Give it to me.” She orders, practically salivating. 

I do as she bids, the stone dwarfed by her large, pale hands. Snow examines it closely, growing more impressed by the second. 

“Where did you get this?” She asks. When I don’t answer quick enough, Snow bares her teeth. “SPEAK!” 

“The mines...” I say, kneeling at her feet. 

“The mines?” She begins stoking my hair. “But until now, you found only gold...the odd diamond.” 

I nod and her hand follows the motion. 

“This is different.” I explain. “Before you...awoke, we started mining at night too. Just to fill our time. I don’t know what happened, whether it was magic, but the things we found...they’re-” 

“Stop.” She grabs me by the hair, raising my head to look at her. “Why did you wait until now to tell me? You know I don’t like secrets.” 

I try to look as wounded as possible, my eyes beginning to water. 

Suddenly her grip softens, and she smooths my hair, a smile cracking her perfect visage. 

“But that doesn’t matter now...” Snow looks down at the stone, her eyes dazzling. “I need you to bring me more of these. I can feel the power that’s inside...the energy. I want to feel it coursing through my veins.” 

\--- 

** _ Margrit POV _ **

I haven’t ridden a horse since I was a child, but her temperament is good, and the saddle fits nicely. 

I’m not sure what Bella has named her, but for the time being, I will call her Nebel. Her coat is a speckled grey, with a mane as black as a crow's wing. Yes, Nebel suits her well. 

By morning, we’ve made reasonable headway. I have my hood up, keeping the snow and sleet from my eyes. Some hours later and the sky is bruising purple. Luckily, I’ve passed many of the signposts I saw on my way to the mountains. 

Just a little further, and I’ll see those leafless trees and the dip of the mines. That snowy hill will cast its eyes upon me, but its desolate stare won’t stop me from saving those I love. Even if my help is unwanted. 

“We’re almost there, girl...” I whisper, keeping my face close to her mane. 

Nebel charges like thunder, her nostrils blazing a white fog into the night. We take two backroads, cutting a good twenty minutes off our journey. Then finally, as if in a fantasy, I see the cottage up ahead, lamp-lit windows guiding me the last few meters. 

My heart is pounding in my chest, my vision slowly throbbing. 

I tie Nebel by the entrance, willing her not to make too much noise. She looks up at me with complete trust. 

The house is quiet, but I know it can’t be empty this time. I picture them in there, waiting for the next punishment, their eyes permanently downcast. 

Crouching by the window, I peer inside. There’s nobody in the kitchen, but an oil lamp still flickers. The seventh chair draws my attention, springing me into action. By now, she’s probably heard me approaching, the sound of hooves is difficult to mask. 

I hurry to the back of the cottage, ready to break one of the windows if necessary. 

But it’s not. The back door is wide open. 

I swallow, uneasy. _ Why would she give me this opportunity? _

It doesn’t matter. Even if this is a trap, I have to risk it. I would risk it all if I could just make it right for them, bring them peace once more. 

I step inside, lowering my hood. The urge to touch every surface, to indulge in the feeling of being home again is overwhelming, but I manage to shrug it off. 

The bedroom doors are closed, all but one. Mine. Well, _ hers _. 

Light streams from the room in a jagged pattern, coaxing me. If this is what she wants, then so be it. I will take the bait. I stand in the doorway, fingers itching to release their magic. 

The sight of him causes my powers to dissipate, arms falling by my sides. 

“Ollie...” I whisper, my lips trembling. 

He’s kneeling at her bedside, eyes wide and hopeful. It’s enough to break even the hardest of hearts. 

“What’s going on?” I say, moving closer. 

He opens his mouth and a single tear stains his cheek. “She wouldn’t let me go with the others.” 

My eyes trace her giant figure, arms outstretched behind her head. Her expression is utterly serene. 

“Let you go where, Ollie?” I ask. “Where are the others?” 

“They went to find you.” He says, trying to smile. His good hand reaches out to me. “Margrit...” 

I take his hand, both of us kneeling, then pull him into my arms. His right hand grasps at the back of my cloak, while the other rests limply on his thigh. 

“I really think she might be dead this time.” Ollie mumbles into my shoulder. 

“What did she take?” 

He moves away just long enough to scan the room. 

“The needle...there.” He gestures to a silver tray lying next to her on the mattress. The needle is almost empty, but for a trace of red dust lining the barrel. 

For a moment, all I can do is stare. 

“Is that...?” 

Ollie nods, wiping his cheek on the back of his hand. 

I can’t stifle a look of disgust. Something I created, something that came from me, from the fire..._ inside her veins _. The thought alone makes me shudder. 

“I know.” He says, crawling towards the bed. “There was always something...not quite right.” 

Ollie leans over her unconscious body. A tear rolls down his cheek, landing soundlessly against her collarbone. 

“I could never figure out what made her so cruel, so-” 

Before he can finish that thought, a large hand reaches up and grabs him by the throat. 

“OLLIE!” I scream, fear coiling in my belly. 

Her eyes snap to meet mine, they’re glowing a deep red. 

“I feel it...” She smiles, Ollie struggling beneath her. “The fire is in me. We are one!” 

Her laughter shakes the room. It’s darker than my twisted dreams, as wicked as jealousy. 

\---

** _ Richard POV _ **

The snow whips around us like a vacuum and the hill stands empty, without the tree or the casket. It feels wrong somehow, like our fate has changed. 

We fix our helmets, even Schneider has donned one. 

“You’re sure she went north?” Paul asks, turning to Flake. 

The taller man nods. 

I look down the line, making sure everyone’s ready. 

“So we’re agreed...” I say, my breath turning to mist. “We’ll go one by one, starting with Schneider.” 

It’s dark enough now, this has to work. 

On the count of three Schneider lights his headlamp, then switches it off. Flake is next, then Paul, then Till, and last of all, me. We do this several times, forming a kind of pattern. 

The land below us seems bathed in candlelight, but there’s very little movement. Trees rustle, birds seek shelter elsewhere. Somewhere in the distance, a wolf begins to howl. 

We carry on this way until our hands ache and our bodies are numb with the cold. 

“She travelled too far...” Flake pants. “She cannot see us.” 

“We just need to keep trying.” I search his face, but there’s very little hope there. 

The others seem equally disheartened, even Paul is flagging. 

“It’s...so cold.” He mumbles, teeth chattering. 

Till drapes an arm around him, giving Paul a reassuring squeeze. 

“They’re right.” Till says, catching my eye. “Even if she has seen us, she’s not coming. We need to get back to Ollie. God knows what she’s making him do.” 

Despite Ollie’s pleas for us to leave, to get on with it, I know Till is right. We can’t leave him there much longer. Snow’s patience runs thin, and if she grows bored of him, there’s no telling what she might do. 

My light still shines. 

“I’m sorry, Richard...” Paul begins, pulling his cloak tighter around the neck. 

“Shh!” I whisper, pressing a finger to my lips. 

I’m not sure if I’m imagining things now. Perhaps the cold is finally fogging my brain. 

“Reesh, what-” 

Suddenly their ears prick up. We can all hear it now, like rolling thunder in the distance. 

“Is that...?” Schneider leans in. 

“Hooves.” Flake says. “She's not on foot.” 

\---

We reach the cottage in good time, but it’s clear that something strange is already underway. 

A stunning grey horse has been left tied to the porch. She whinnies at our arrival and Schneider gently strokes her snout, offering a soothing word. 

Without speaking, the rest of us share a glance. Our visitor is inside. At this point, we can only hope that she’s come prepared. 

Till signals for he and I to go in through the front door while the others take the rear. We move through the house, instantly hit by a wave of heat. It takes us a few moments to register where it’s coming from. 

Snow’s bedroom. 

“Fuck...” I say, staring at Till. 

It doesn’t take us long to decide. 

We run into the room with as much blind courage as we can muster. Flake, Paul and Schneider are already there, staying as close to the walls as possible. The heat warps the air, clouding our vision. 

Margrit and Snow stand face to face, though not eye to eye. The Jotunn towers above her, above us all, with Ollie dangling from her right hand. 

I swallow, the heat now forcing its way into my lungs. 

“Drop him.” Margrit says. 

Her eyes are molten, practically spitting flames. By her sides, her hands are on fire. 

Snow watches, amused. Her grip tightens and Ollie starts to choke. 

“I said...DROP HIM!” The flames at Margrit’s fingertips turn blue, then white. 

“Or what?” Snow chuckles, her voice lower than before. 

I can’t remember her ever sounding so grim, so masterful. 

Ollie tries to turn his head to the side, to look at us. 

“I’m sorry” I mouth, hoping he can see me. The room is dark, lit only by a small oil lamp and Margrit’s display of power. 

The others gaze in fear, thankful for her presence, yet too scared to approach or to aid her. 

In a slow, calculated motion, Margrit raises her left hand in front of her. Her palm lies flat, like the start of a magic trick. 

“You may be a giant...” She says, smiling to herself. “But I’m a fucking witch.” 


	8. Acht

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can our OC push her own demons aside to defeat a common enemy, or will it take joint strength to get rid of Snow for good?

This wasn’t supposed to happen. 

The flames at my fingertips propel in her direction, scattering a gold dust that blinds her, before setting her clothes on fire. 

To my relief, she lets Ollie fall to the ground. As soon as he lands, he crawls off to join the others. I’m aware of their presence, but the rage has blinkered me. Right now, there is only survival. 

The giantess stands for a moment, gaping at the flames in horror. Then a change comes over her. She raises her head, letting herself be engulfed. 

The fire slowly extinguishes, but for a few stray sparks dousing the bed itself. 

“Didn’t you hear what I said before?” She smiles. Her dress appears untouched. “I am one with the fire. It cannot hurt me.” 

I don’t dare look at my friends, I can sense their fear already. But I am glad I returned; I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if this happened while I was away. It’s bad enough this happened _ because _ of me, because of something I was too weak to control. 

“We have to get out of here.” Richard’s hand is on my arm, he doesn’t seem to care if he gets burned or not. 

The fire I cast before may not have reached its intended target, but it is climbing the curtains at an alarming rate. As we turn around, I can see the guys have already set off towards the backdoor. Richard tugs me in their direction, but my feet won’t budge. 

“No...” I say, just loud enough for him to hear me over the roar of the flames. 

“What are you doing?!” He covers his nose and mouth with the crook of his elbow. “We have to leave, it’s not safe in here!” 

The Jotunn watches, amused by our little scene. Sensing my hesitation, she lunges forward. 

“Margrit!” Richard pulls me just out of her reach. 

We fall into the kitchen, scattered in a heap on the floor. Standing in the doorway, she looks down on us with growing impatience. 

“Please...” I say, helping Richard to his feet. I grip him by the shoulders, steadying us both. “Go to the others. Just...get away from here, I promise I’ll come and find you when this is over.” 

He searches my face, desperately wanting to believe me. 

“Fine!” He says, choking on the fumes. “Just...make sure she’s-” 

I usher him out, my chest heaving. The adrenaline has well and truly set in. 

It’s just the two of us now. The way it should have been from the start. 

Glaring up at her, I ask “So you’ve got the fire. What are you going to do with it?” 

Still smiling, she props her hands on either side of the door frame, and with a violent crack, the walls start to splinter. 

“I don’t need the fire to kill you.” Her voice is sickeningly sweet. “It will simply add flavour to your death. And those poor boys... just imagine what it will do to them.” 

She storms through the kitchen, sending the table and chairs flying across the room. They crash into the far wall, breaking apart like driftwood. 

“They will stay with me, even after you’re gone.” She continues, amused by her own thoughts. “Do you know why?” 

We’re so close now, I can feel the heat rising in her blood, radiating from her skin. Her breath smells like rotting fruit. 

When I don’t answer, she tells me anyway. 

“Because I am all they have ever known.” The giantess leans down, her teeth glinting in the darkness. “I am their sun, their moon. Whatever I say, they must do. _ I am their God._” 

I find myself smiling despite the terror that’s weaving its way into my heart. 

Magic prickles at my fingertips, yearning to be free. I must do this for them, to bury what should never have been resurrected. 

“You know...” I say, a hot tear spilling onto my cheek. “I pity the sun.” 

She raises her eyebrows. 

“After all,” I shrug. “It is only a flame.” 

Fire surges then, a white beam of light aimed directly at the ceiling. A large section of the roof crumbles away, chunks of stone raining down on us. I shield my head with both arms, struck only by debris. Through the dust, I can no longer see her, but somewhere beneath the rubble, I hear her moaning. The fire is still raging inside. 

Hastily, I run for the front door. This time I can unlock it rather than forcing my way through. It slams shut behind me, blocking out the sounds of destruction. 

Outside, I fall to my knees, fingers splayed against the damp earth. I feel snowflakes stinging my cheeks, an oddly welcome sensation. It takes me a while to catch my breath, and when I finally force myself to stand, I realise I’m not alone. 

Their eyes are fixed on me, hot breath billowing in the night air. 

“Is she dead?” Paul swallows. 

“I’m not sure...” I turn to look at the cottage, guilt suddenly raising its head. “But she’s trapped in there. I-I'm sorry, this place...your home, it’s-” 

The windows flicker with the promise of absolute ruin. 

“You have nothing to apologise for.” Schneider is crouching low, his fingers tracing something on the ground by his feet. “But this isn’t over.” 

He pries an object from the snow, barely able to carry it. It’s long and hefty, sheathed in brown leather. 

“What is that?” I say, eyeing the mysterious item. 

The others stand with their chins raised. Clearly they know something I don’t. 

“I have been working on this for months now. Since before Snow first perished.” Schneider removes the leather casing, slowly revealing an enormous sword, its blade gleaming in the moonlight. 

_ Snow? _They named the beast, after all. 

“I didn’t set out with the intention of hurting anybody. I started to craft something in my free time, when I could steal away to my workshop for an hour or two. I knew it was a weapon, but I never knew its purpose. Until you came.” 

I study the handle, there’s a large clear stone fixed into the metal. It glints like a diamond, with flecks of blue and gold. 

“You want me to kill her?” I ask, meeting their gaze one by one. 

“If it comes to that.” Says Richard. 

“_When _it comes to that.” Schneider corrects him. 

As if triggered by his words, there’s a deafening boom. The house is fully engulfed now, with a halo of smoke above the roof, or what’s left of it. From the flames, something dark emerges. 

A shadow. 

No, _a figure _. 

Then she appears before us, crawling on her hands and knees. Even in such a pose, the sheer size of her is intimidating. 

My eyes go straight to the sword. Schneider is still holding it out to me, as if in offering. His arms are shaking beneath the weight. 

“It has to be me?” I ask, veering away from the house. 

Snow is slowly dragging herself towards us, poised like a snake preparing to strike. 

The men hesitate. 

“I... I can’t.” Says Schneider, his eyes prickling with stubborn tears. 

“Even after everything...” Ollie stammers, “I cannot do it either.” 

The others don’t speak, but their silence is an echo. 

Where anger might once have kindled, I feel nothing but empathy. I touch Schneider’s cheek and his eyes fall shut. Then I take the sword. 

It’s far heavier than I anticipated, heavier than the drill. The blade drags along the ground as I approach her, struggling to breathe through gritted teeth. 

She leaps towards me, eyes burning brighter than ever. A startling red. I try to raise the sword, to swing for her, but my body goes with it. Snow dodges the blade, practically foaming at the mouth. 

I try again, but she catches me as I lift my weapon, hitting me in the stomach. Snow’s fists are like cinder blocks, and their force is enough to knock the air straight out of my lungs. 

_ This pain is nothing _ , I tell myself , hitting the ground with a thud . _ If you lose them, then you will know what it is to suffer. _

Lying unarmed, I raise my head just in time to see Snow reach for the blade. But the very instant she touches it, there are hands gripping the hilt. Long, slender fingers covered in dirt and soot. 

Flake uses all his might to lift the sword, raising the weapon back and then bringing it forward in a slashing motion. It just manages to slice the top of Snow’s arm, her ruby lips parting, mouth gaping in disbelief. In truth, we are all astonished. 

The weight of the sword is still too much, and Flake stoops over the handle. 

“Zusammen!” He cries, staring back at the others. "Together...q-quickly!"

This time, they do not hesitate. 

They lift the sword as one, until it seems as though the blade were merely an extension of their own bodies. It angles up towards her chest, and in one swift motion, pierces her heart. Or the empty shell where a heart might once have been. 

Snow’s scream is as violent as the act itself. An inhuman screech. She stares at the blade as it continues to move, dark spurts of blood steaming as they hit the snow. 

Seeing the men begin to crumble beneath her weight, I get to my feet, standing behind Richard at the back of the huddle. 

“Now!” I say, hoping they understand my instruction. 

We start to withdraw the blade, grunting with the effort. She drops to her knees, and the ground quakes. The falling snow burns as it lands on her skin, causing the flesh to scorch and sizzle. 

The sound is truly horrifying, but Snow can no longer react. Her blood becomes part of the earth, and within moments, the cold sees her body reduced to ash. One final gust of wind, and she scatters like motes on the air. 

“Christ...” Till and the others wipe the dust from their eyes. 

The sword clatters to the ground. 

I stare at the red snow under our feet, my heart rising in my throat. None of us can breathe. 

Some of the men are sitting on the ground, their heads in their hands. 

“I’m sorry.” I say, unsure if my words will make any difference. 

“Sorry?” Schneider frowns. “You just saved our lives. I mean...we saved each other's lives. There is nothing to be sorry about.” 

Paul lets out a broken sob, stirring me from the shock of Snow’s death. 

I join him on the ground. 

“We shouldn’t have killed her, it...it should never have gone that far. I'm so sorry. Please don’t be upset, Paul.” I reach for his hand in the darkness, and to my surprise he takes it. 

“No...” He sniffs, wiping his nose on the cuff of his sleeve. “That’s not it, I... I just never thought we would go through this again.” 

I nod, finally starting to understand. 

“So, you are..._ happy _ I came back?” I look up at Richard, the only one still standing. His hands are balled into fists. 

“We didn’t think you would come.” Says Paul, now being comforted by Till and Schneider. 

“Some of us were afraid to seek you out.” Richard draws my attention back. 

I realise he _ is _ angry. Angry with himself. 

“We sought each other out.” I explain. “I met someone in the mountains, she helped me use my magic to see this place, to check you were alright. When I saw that you weren’t, there was no way I could leave you here.” 

Richard swallows, releasing his grip. I rise to my feet, wasting no time, and pull him to me. 

His entire body seems to relax, like he’s been holding his breath for weeks. Dark hair clinging to the sweat on his brow, he looks like a phoenix from the ashes, ready to face life anew. After a good night's sleep perhaps.

“I hope this taught you a valuable lesson.” I say, briefly letting him go, and watch as the confusion returns to his face. 

“Hm?” 

“Witch is _not a bad word _.” 

Richard smiles then. A real smile, completely uninhibited. 

“And I hope this taught you something too.” He says, brushing away a stray snowflake as it lands on my shoulder.

“Like what?” 

“Like next time you want to borrow my cloak, _ask _.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one more chapter to go. Thanks for reading, I hope you're still enjoying :)


	9. Neun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An epilogue...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to thank everyone who read this fic (and hopefully enjoyed it!) and left comments/kudos.
> 
> This fic was intended as pure escapism. Sonne was the first Rammstein music video I ever saw, and like pretty much all their videos, it's fuelled my imagination for years.
> 
> So here's the final chapter *sprinkles glitter*

“I can’t believe this thing actually works.” I smile down at the ring on my index finger. The amber stone glows like a cupped flame. 

Schneider seems pleased with himself, his cheeks burning with pride. 

After the fire, we stayed with my Aunt Bella for several months, half of us sleeping in her cabin and the other half bunking in the stables. It wasn’t ideal, but not once did the men complain. They were happy to be alive, and I was more than happy to see them unharmed. 

It didn’t take long for us to start building a new home at the base of the mountain. It’s brighter out here, with plenty of wildlife and a river nearby. The men chose to surrender the mines for good. They each had other skills to fall back on, ones they hadn’t even told me about. 

Flake knew how to treat ailments of the body and the mind, and Till was a skilled fisherman. Ollie revealed that he had always had a passion for art, and despite his injury, he produced the most provoking paintings. It took the townsfolk a little while to accept them, but soon enough, the local gallery was asking for an independent showing. 

Paul and Richard discovered a shared dream. They took our story and wrote it down, but once it was finished, their minds continued to roam. They came up with so many elaborate tales that they were forced to publish an entire volume. 

_ Fairy Tales _, they were called. And the public ate them up. 

Schneider remained a blacksmith, through and through, and once he had his free time back, he started working on a new project, less secretive than the last. 

When he first told me he was going to craft a ring that would help me focus my energy when things got too intense, or my anger was reaching its peak, I nearly burst out laughing. Nothing could contain the chaos, I thought. 

But I was wrong. 

The next time I felt a flicker of impatience, the stone began to pulse with light, the silver band radiating heat. Till volunteered to test Schneider’s invention. With his eyes closed, he reached out rather shakily, and took hold of my wrist. 

“Well?” I asked him, afraid he might just be braving the pain. 

Till opened his eyes and with a dirty laugh, exclaimed “I think you need a pair of gloves. Your hands are like ice.” 

The relief was overwhelming, Paul nearly bent himself double, laughing at god-knows-what. Soon we were all joining in. Once the laughter stopped, Schneider passed six small wooden boxes around. He’d forged rings for all of them, simple silver bands with each man’s initials engraved on the inside. They hugged him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. To me, they seemed closer than ever, and slowly but surely, those thoughts of guilt and self-loathing finally began to fade.

Now the cottage is almost complete, with only the chimney and fireplace left. It’s starting to look and feel more like home. It’s a shame I have to leave. 

“You know, you could stay a day or two longer. It wouldn’t be an inconvenience.” Schneider looks up at me with puppy dog eyes. 

We’re both sitting on a low ridge near the base of the mountain, our legs dangling over the edge. 

“That’s what you’ve been saying all week.” I tease, nudging him with my elbow. “You know I’d love to stay, but there’s so much I can learn from Bella, so much we need to catch up on.” 

He nods, smiling softly, but the warmth doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

Paul and Richard are circling the house, they’ve been talking for nearly an hour. I wonder what’s so interesting. 

“I’ll still be nearby. It’s only on the other side of the river.” I add, though we’re both busy studying the pair below. “In a week or two, you guys won’t even notice I’m gone.” 

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” He says, and we watch as Richard gently touches his forehead against Paul’s. 

A few moments later, and they’re climbing up to join us. Paul plops himself down next to Schneider, but Richard remains standing. The two men stare up at him expectantly. 

“_Komm __schon_...” Paul whispers. 

“Lass mich reden... Schwanz...” The man responds, slapping his friend lightly on the back of the head. 

Paul offers me an innocent smile, ruffling his hair back into shape. 

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” Richard asks. “Alone?” 

“Um...Sure, okay.” I say, rising to my feet. 

I wipe my hands on the front of my cloak and follow him back down the mountain pass. 

Neither of us say a word, we listen instead to the crunch of the stones beneath our feet and the rustle of the wind. 

Then finally, Richard gathers the courage to speak. 

“I know you have to go...” He says, “And I’m not going to try and stop you. I’m sure the others have given you their best wounded puppy dog looks, but you know that’s not me, so...” 

“I know.” I smile, vaguely amused. 

“But I also know that you plan on coming back to visit every few months.” 

I’m intrigued now. Where exactly is he going with this? 

He slows our pace, nudging a loose rock with the tip of his boot. 

“When you come back, would you maybe want to do something? I could, I don’t know... cook for us, something other than porridge this time. Or we could go into town. Whatever you want.” 

Noting my look of astonishment, Richard suddenly backtracks. 

“That’s if you want to, of course. We could involve the other guys too, if it’s too weird.” 

Though he often starts to blush after a few ales, it’s the first time I’ve seen him this flustered, not knowing where to look. 

“I um... I don’t know about that, Richard.” I say honestly, pursing my lips in thought. 

“Don’t know about what?” He asks, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Bringing five other guys on our date. I mean, that’s bound to get a little crowded.” 

The two of us burst out laughing, some of Richard’s tension easing. 

“So, is that a yes?” He beams. 

I turn back towards the ridge. Paul and Schneider glance around, whistling tunelessly. 

“As long as it’s okay with your bodyguards.” I say, tugging his shirtsleeve as I lead him back towards the house. 

\---

Even though we won’t be too far apart, it still feels unnatural to leave them. 

Bella comes to the cottage to see me off, greeting me with a warm, tight hug. It’s strange to think I might never have known her, but fate has its ways. 

Ollie carries my bag in his right hand. I stop him, forcing him to lower it back to the ground, then take his left hand gently in my own, pressing it to my cheek. 

“It’s okay...” He says, understanding all too well. “I’m okay.” 

I nod, desperately trying to keep the tears at bay. By the time his slender arms enfold me, there’s no use trying anymore. 

Flake is next, looking well-dressed these days with new silver spectacles, and a stylish cravat. He hugs me firmly, if a little awkwardly, then flexes both biceps. 

“See, I knew these muscles would come in useful one day.” He jokes, giving himself a stitch. 

Till pulls him into sideways hug, already laughing. 

“Yeah, yeah. You’re a big hero, _Herr Doktor_.” He embraces us both, kissing the top of my head. “Now let Margrit have her moment.” 

Schneider bows at first, an attempt at chivalry, but he soon discards this idea, pulling me to him like the tide. He smells of home, of crackling fires and pinewood, and my entire body aches with a loss I know too well. 

“You’ll keep the sword?” I whisper against his ear. 

“At first I planned on selling it...” He smiles. “But the others convinced me to hold on to it. Just in case.” 

“You never know.” I say, dusting his leather waistcoat. 

“You never know.” Schneider repeats. 

Paul and Richard are last. 

I sling the bag over my shoulder and open my arms to them. Their cheeks press against my own, bodies squeezing me tight. When they eventually pull away, their skin is damp with my tears. 

“Shit, sorry...” I start dabbing at Paul’s chin with my sleeve. 

“Margrit, _bitte _... watch the language in front of your Aunt.” He teases, catching a stray tear on the tip of my nose. 

I think back to my first memory of him, not the interrogation at the foot of the bed, but the focus of his gaze as he bathed my forehead. The simple yet tender act that started the healing process all on its own. And now here he is, doing what he does best, healing those around him with a smile, even if he doesn’t know it. 

Richard wipes away the last of my tears with the pad of his thumb. 

“Well?” He shrugs. “What are you waiting for? Get out of here.” 

“Yeah...” Paul says, “Beat it.” 

The laughter makes this easier. 

I take their hands in mine, give them a final squeeze, before turning to join Bella. She’s leading Nebel, who waits patiently, gently nudging me with her snout as soon as I’m in range. We mount her one after another, with Bella seated in front. 

“Take care of her, Isobel.” Says Till in his thick baritone. 

Bella winks, and something passes between them. I catch myself wondering if I’ve been blind these past few months. 

I smile to myself as we set off, Nebel’s hooves kicking up dust. 

In our wake, a voice cries out. 

“Margrit, hey!” 

Squinting against the sunlight, I see Richard fighting to keep up with us. 

“Is that my cloak?” He asks. 

“Sorry!" I say, gesturing all around. "I can't hear you!"

"I said..." The sound of heavy footfall masks his voice. "Is that my-"

Biting my lip, I flash him one final smile.

"I'll see you next month!" I wink, bundling into the warm fabric. 


End file.
